


Eggs & Icing Sugar

by faedreamer



Series: I Love My Followers Tumblr Prompts [1]
Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Body Worship, Hartwin, M/M, all of it resolved in the end, baker!eggsy, charmer!harry, chubby!eggsy, roxy/eggsy brotp, tons of sexual tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-04-26 05:35:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4992253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faedreamer/pseuds/faedreamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a particularly bad mission, Merlin and the Kingsman psych team think Harry needs something to help him decompress...like a hobby. Which is how Harry Hart - Elite Super Spy - ends up in an apron piping frosting on cakes in a tiny cooking school in the heart of London, taught by one Eggsy Unwin, a round-cheeked angel with, as it turns out, a weakness for older men in gorgeous suits who look at him like he might be the tastiest thing in the kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I confess that everything I know about baking or cooking in general I learned from Food Network, and as such may or may not bear any resemblance to actual cooking/baking. Don’t try any of this at home. This fic is part of my I Love My Followers Giveaway on Tumblr. Two more will be coming once this one is complete, I thought bundling them together was a decent idea, so if you subscribe, maybe subscribe to the series as well, if you’d like. :)

_“This is not a request, Galahad. I don’t particularly care what kind of class you take, but you’re going to take one. Marlene says you’re not bouncing back from this last mission and you need something to decompress. So this is it. Here’s the list of classes she suggested, pick one and attend. You may consider that an order.”_

It’s ridiculous, of course. His mission in Dubai was a bad one, sure, but he doesn’t see what taking a night class will do for him that a couple days of down time and a bottle of scotch won’t accomplish just as well. Some psychiatrist mumbo jumbo about taking up a calming hobby - knitting, crocheting, scrapbooking had all been on the list, the kind of things you expected a maiden aunt to partake in, not an elite super spy. But Merlin wouldn’t be dissuaded once the decree had come from the ‘health and agent care’ department.

And so here Harry is, perched on a stool at the very back of a row of tall, glistening steel tables, waiting to learn how to bake cookies or some such. The ‘Cookery School’ it’s called, this particular course taught by someone named Eggsy Unwin. The Eggsy part has to be a joke. Surely the man’s not actually a baker called Eggsy, it’d just be too much.

The room is white and shiny stainless steel, every tool and machine in its place. He’s got a crisp white apron on over his suit and he sincerely hopes there are no tall chef hats involved or he will have to revolt.

He taps out a message to Merlin on his phone as they wait. _It is you who will be explaining to Martin at the shop why my suit is ruined with eggs and icing sugar, you know. Bastard._

A few seconds later, a reply.

_For Christ’s sake, Harry, who told you to wear one of your Kingsman issue suits to your baking class? Expecting an attack from a blender, are you? Bugger off. You’re meant to enjoy this._

What he’d enjoy is the chance to shove Merlin’s bald head into a bowl of whipped cream. In fact, he’s halfway off the stool, ready to abandon this ridiculous idea and damn the consequences, when the door swings open and in walks what he can only describe as the human equivalent of a delicious, frosted cupcake.

His hair is just a touch too long, letting loose curls form at his nape and temples, giving him the look of a young Cupid - not to mention the pale cream skin, sparkling green eyes and bright, dimply smile. All that’s missing is a pair of wings and a golden bow.

A bright yellow apron is tied around his waist, and though Harry wouldn’t consider the boy overweight by any means, there is just enough softness to him that one can see this is a young man who enjoys his work - often. Harry smiles a bit - his mother once said never to trust a thin chef, and he supposes that applies to bakers as well.

Regardless, Harry’s interest in the class is suddenly renewed and he resumes his seat abruptly, not wanting this lovely young man to think he’d been on the verge of abandoning his class. Oh no, suddenly Harry is quite keen to learn all about raspberry creams and lemon mousses and all manner of sweet things he might lick off Mr. Eggsy Unwin’s lovely skin.

His phone buzzes in his pocket - probably Merlin with another snarking barb - but Harry ignores it. A gentleman is never rude, he tells himself - it has nothing to do with specifically not wanting to offend the gorgeous creature introducing himself at the front of the room. Nothing at all.

~ ~ ~ ~

Eggsy’s used to all sorts showing up for his classes. Baking is a universal kind of thing and so he ends up with all types, from all walks of life, clustered around his tables rolling fondant and whisking cream into frothy deliciousness. So he’s rarely surprised on day one of a new course, standing there at the front taking stock of his new recruits.

This time, however, his gaze snags on a fellow at the back of the room. Piercing dark eyes behind tortoiseshell glasses seem to pin him like a butterfly in a shadowbox. The man is tall - he can tell because even sitting on the stool provided, he is impossible to miss a full head above anyone else in the class. Dark hair shot through with silver falls to one side in that sort of artful way that looks casual but in all likelihood took a fair bit of styling to achieve.

He’s handsome, in a cool, very precise sort of way - he’s got a face that speaks of experience, a life lived hard and with purpose. Not some soft aristocrat, then, though he looks like he would fit with that crowd. Except...no, he wouldn’t, Eggsy thinks. There’s a spark of something in his eyes - rebellion, maybe, telling Eggsy he’s not all that he seems.

Oh dear. This is very bad. He can definitely _not_ be attracted to a student. Absolutely not. And yet…

Oh dear.

Eggsy manages to shuttle the tingling attraction aside for the moment, getting on with the class, wandering the room as his students attempt their first whipped cream - learning names and faces and perhaps a tidbit or two about each.

His posh gentleman, for example, is named Harry Hart. “I am Harry Hart,” he says, very proper and firm, like a handshake. And then asks if Eggsy is really Eggsy.

Eggsy laughs. “No, it’s a nickname my mum gave me when I was just wee. I loved to bake since I was tiny and cracking eggs was all she’d let me do until I was 3 or so. So...Eggsy.”

Harry smiles at him, this faint hint of curved lips and it’s shocking how intensely that smile affects him. He gets flustered and almost trips over the leg of the table trying to scoot around it and back to his rounds. He really hopes Harry didn’t notice.

~ ~ ~ ~

The boy’s clumsy - adorably so. He’s tripped or nearly dropped something no less than three times - all when he’s been either near or looking at Harry. He tucks that information away for further analysis.

Harry also learns that the boy’s hands are soft - information gleaned when Eggsy takes the whisk from him in order to show him the proper technique for tilting the bowl into his whipping.

To be honest, Harry pays more attention to the way Eggsy’s golden-tipped lashes cast faint shadows on his rosy pink cheeks and the soft dimples that peek when he casts shy little smiles Harry’s way. Oh, he is all but begging to be snatched up and devoured like some fluffy sweet treat and Harry is fucking _starving_ , conveniently enough.

When the class ends, he’s fiddling about waiting for the rest of the students to filter out when his plans to find out if Eggsy tastes as sweet as he looks are disrupted by an insistent pulse of three texts in a row from his phone. Merlin does that whenever Harry’s got his volume off and only when it’s important. Damn it.

So he’s forced to leave, casting a smile and a nod over his shoulder at Eggsy who looks wonderfully disappointed. Wonderful because he definitely looks like he was hoping Harry might try to talk to him alone. Good. _Next time, little tasty. Next time._

Next time, it turns out, is not later that week, as scheduled, but a full two weeks later. Apparently his need for ‘decompressing’ does not trump the agency’s need of his skills and he’s just gotten back from South America, albeit on a much less dangerous mission than before.

He’s unsure what the protocol is for apologizing for missing more classes than one’s attended - three in total, as the class is twice weekly. He settles on a bottle of wine, a sweet Moscato specifically meant to be paired with desserts - hoping Eggsy might agree to share it with him after class, perhaps over one of his delicious treats.

Or post-mindblowing sex, whichever.

But if he expected a warm welcome back, Harry is quite disappointed when Eggsy barely glances at him upon start of class. It’s not until they are halfway through piping delicate swells of icing across the top of a cardboard practice ‘cake’ - piping which, Harry must admit, is harder than he ever imagined. He promptly decides to never again make fun of the cheap market cakes at the grocery, because even those look a hundred times better than the gloopy mess he’s currently contending with.

He’s pondering how on earth what is meant to be a flower turned out looking like, well...a pile of something else, when Eggsy finally passes his table. Harry catches his wrist gently and is pinned with startled green eyes, wide and blinking. Harry wants so much to kiss him, right then and there, and if the boy doesn’t close his luscious mouth Harry simply will not be held responsible for the things he does to it.

“May I speak with you after class, please?” he asks, brows lifting in question, thumb lightly stroking the tender inside of Eggsy’s wrist.

Eggsy glances around, but no one’s paying them any attention and his eyes meet Harry’s again. “I really don’t think…”

Harry sighs. “Just for a moment. I won’t take much of your time.”

“It’s not that, just…” Eggsy nods, then, tugging his wrist free. “Alright. Just for a minute after.” He glances down at Harry’s pitiful practice piping and his lips twitch. “Your piping tip is a size too large. Try a smaller one, it’ll give you better control.” Then whisks away, though the scent of him - vanilla and mint - lingers. Or perhaps that’s the icing and Harry’s just being whimsical.

He cannot recall the last time he was _whimsical._

~ ~ ~ ~

Eggsy feels bad for making Harry think he doesn’t want to talk to him, but in all honesty...most of him doesn’t. The part that does is that traitorous, slutty part that doesn’t care about professionalism and maintaining a moral compass, such as _not_ sleeping with students, however handsome and dashing and absolutely toe-curling they are.

It’s not like there’s some law against baking teachers sleeping with their over-50 clientele - and has he mentioned how deliciously naughty that feels, the ‘over-50’ part? He’s never dated anyone even close to Harry’s age and yet it doesn’t turn him off. If anything, it turns him on even more, making his stomach twist while his head fills with impossibly erotic imaginings of just what sort of things a man of that experience might teach him.

Eggsy shakes his head abruptly. And _this_ is why he doesn’t want to talk to Harry after class. Because he very much wants to do more than just talk. He’s going to embarrass himself and say something unforgivably stupid - like blurting out how he’s spent the last two weeks watching the door every class, wondering if Harry was alright, if he’d decided he hated the class or Eggsy or maybe had gotten hit by a car or something worse. It’s absurd, the amount of time he spent thinking about a man he’d shared barely two full sentences of conversation with.

He’s going to embarrass himself.

He excuses himself for a moment and dips out of the classroom for a moment, into the hall where he dials his best friend, Roxy, and leans against the wall to bemoan his situation.

“You will _not_ embarrass yourself. You’re adorable and funny and sweet and if he isn’t completely charmed by you then he’s an idiot who doesn’t deserve to even take your class, let alone sweep you off your feet.” She lets out a wistful sigh, though. “Oh man, is he wearing another suit? You should totally try to snap a picture without him knowing so I can see this mythical hottie you’ve been mooning over.”

“Roxy! No! With my luck he’d totally catch me and how am I supposed to explain _that_?” He smiles, though, and tips his head back against the wall. “And yes, he is totally wearing another perfect suit - blue with a dark gold fine pinstripe this time. It looks like it cost more than my brand new double oven - and he looks _gorgeous_ in it.”

“Wow...can I come down there and pretend I’m your assistant? I want to see this guy…”

Eggsy snorts. “Don’t you dare. He wants to talk to me after class, Rox. He held my wrist and was rubbing his thumb and it was, I swear to everything holy, the most erotic thing any guy’s ever done - and that includes Derek from last summer, he of the Nearly Perfect Blowjob.”

Roxy giggles. “Wow. You are so gone, Eggs.”

Eggsy would love to contradict her, but she’s right. “I know,” he says forlornly.

“Oh stop, don’t sound so blue about it. Flirt outrageously with him! Bat those pretty eyes at him and find a way to bend over in front of him, because babe your ass is one of your best features.”

Eggsy covers his mouth, not wanting the class inside to hear him laughing. “You’re mental. My ass is fat.”

“Duh. That’s what’s so glorious about it. Honestly, Eggsy, that man sounds like somebody with refined taste - I bet he thinks your plump little ass is a thing of beauty. Go find out!”

Eggsy smiles. “You’re a terrible influence.” Then sighs, feeling much better. “And the best friend a boy could ever have, too. Thanks, Rox. I feel better.”

“Good. Now get back in there and I don’t expect to see you coming rushing home ten minutes after class is over - be very, very late tonight. We can finish our Downton marathon another time.”

He laughs and hangs up, tucking his phone back in his apron pocket and glancing at the door to the kitchen. Eggsy takes a deep breath and goes back inside. However preoccupied he is, he has a class to teach. And after...well he’ll deal with that when it happens.

~ ~ ~ ~

If Harry didn’t know better, he’d swear Eggsy is trying to drive him mad all through the second half of the class. He wanders by no less than a dozen times - twice to press close against Harry’s side and instruct on what he’s doing. It allows Harry the opportunity to clarify that yes, the vanilla and mint _is_ how the young man smells, and also to discover that he has a heretofore unknown fetish for moles. Tiny, delicate moles scattered like stardust across pale, flawless skin. Clusters of moles forming constellations on strong, yet giving biceps. A single mole drawing Harry’s eyes to Eggsy’s throat and it’s all he can do to not lean in and taste that spot, like a drop of chocolate on cream. He wonders where else Eggsy has moles, just waiting to be discovered and worshiped by Harry’s tongue.

It’s the third time Eggsy has found reason to lean against him and put those soft little hands on him to show him how to move the piping bag just so to create the perfect scalloped edge that Harry’s iron control cracks just a bit and he turns his face into Eggsy’s cheek where it’s so close to his own. His nose is tickled with the dark golden curls at his temple, wafting the vanilla half of his scent to flood Harry’s senses.

“Eggsy,” he breathes, though he doesn’t continue, just inhales deeply and lets his eyes drift shut for just a moment.

Neither move, and Harry fancies that he can feel the thump of Eggsy’s heart, can taste the tremor on his skin. It’s an eternity, and also just a heartbeat before Eggsy draws away and their eyes meet. He can just imagine the heat in his own, sees it reflected in the startled yet aroused look in Eggsy’s gaze.

Ever the gentleman, Harry manages a smile and a nod. “Thank you, Eggsy, I think I have it now.”

It’s an out, and Eggsy grabs it gratefully, nodding and giving him a shaky smile in return. “Good, good. You’re doin’ real good.”

Harry watches him dart off then glances down at the mess he’s made, fist tightly clenched around the bag and icing in a gloopy pile. If this class is meant to relax him, he thinks, it’s not doing such a good job.

He manages to make it through to the end, and is grateful when the other participants start filing out. He dutifully cleans his area before crouching down to pick up his leather satchel from where he’d tucked it under his table. Eggsy is at the front of the room, back to him cleaning up a countertop. Harry’s fairly certain the young man is nervous, which makes him feel better because for the first time in years, he is a touch as well.

He’s used to associating with other agents or hardened criminals, the occasional bit of royalty or glitterati, not soft, sweet, angel-faced pastry chefs.

“Eggsy, if you have a moment?” he asks quietly as he approaches, stopping just behind him.

He’s too close, Harry realizes, when Eggsy turns and it suddenly feels like he’s caging the boy back against the counter. Harry takes a step back, giving them both room to breathe - not that he doesn’t like the idea of caging this boy, pinning him back and kissing him breathless.

He shoves those thoughts aside, reaching into his bag. “I wanted to apologize, Eggsy, for missing the last three classes. I had to leave the country on emergency, you see, and there was no time to give notice.” He pulls out the bottle and offers it, brows lifted slightly. “I have a friend with a small winery in northern Italy, he makes a very limited moscato every few years when the grapes are just right. I thought...I thought you might like to try it. It’s supposed to pair very well with desserts, you see.”

Eggsy takes the bottle, blinking down at it. It’s hand-labeled, from his personal collection, and better than anything one could purchase. Eggsy traces the hand-inked label with his fingertips, then glances up at Harry with a faint smile. “Thank you, Harry. It’s lovely. I’ve heard of this particular winery, actually, and the mythical Moscato that only personal friends and family of the vineyard get to taste. It’s too much, though, I can’t…”

Harry cuts him off, covering Eggsy’s hands with his own when the young man tries to give it back. He nudges it back toward Eggsy. “Nonsense. I insist. I took up one of your very limited spots and then had the dreadful manners to leave my seat empty when someone else with a less hectic schedule might have made better use of it.”

Eggsy’s gaze flies up, pinning Harry. “Are you saying you want to abandon the class?”

Harry shakes his head emphatically. “Oh no, not at all. Simply apologizing for being unreliable, that’s all. I will do my utmost to be here for all further classes, I assure you.”

He’s delighted by the relief that crosses Eggsy’s expressive face. Eggsy is wonderfully open-faced, seemingly unable to hide anything at all. For a man surrounded most of his adult life by professional liars - one himself - Harry finds it refreshing and very attractive.

“Thank you, then. Very much. I’ll save it for a special…”

Harry interrupts him again. “Actually, I was hoping you might like to share it. Here, or...if you’d rather, I might not be much of a baker, but I am a passable cook. I could cook us dinner, you could bring the wine and one of your beautiful desserts?”

For a moment, Eggsy just blinks at him. Harry fancies that he can feel the slight breeze from Eggsy’s thick lashes. There he goes again, being _fanciful_. Thank god he chose not to wear the Kingsman issue glasses tonight, because Merlin would never let him hear the end of it.

“Are you...asking me out?”

Harry’s lips twitch and he gives a slight nod. “Admittedly, I’m a touch rusty at it, but I hoped not to be so clumsy on my first try in quite some time. Yes, in fact, I am very much asking you out. Or… _in_ , as it were. To my home?”

He looks torn, perfect brows knitting with concern above those clear, mossy green eyes. “Oh… Ah, I don’t think...that is, well, you’re a student, technically.”

“True. Although, it’s not exactly the same as, say, a college professor and a young uni student, is it? Not to mean any offense, of course.”

Eggsy blushes a little and smiles, shaking his head. “No, it’s not, you’re right. I just...well, to be honest, this is the first time someone taking one of my classes has asked me out, so I’m not...there aren’t any real rules, I don’t think.”

Harry smiles. “Good. Then say yes. Or, if you like, I’ll change my mind and drop the class right this minute.”

Eggsy laughs and shakes his head. “No, don’t do that, you’re coming along rather well with your piping, I think. It’d be a shame to let your talent go to waste.”

Bless him, he’s teasing and Harry is completely and utterly charmed. “Is that a yes, then?”

Eggsy hesitates just another heartbeat, then nods. “Yes. I’d like that, Harry, very much.”

Harry nods, trying not to appear as relieved as he is. “Wonderful. Are you allergic to shellfish?”

“Nope. Not allergic to anything except weeds, actually.” Eggsy shrugs and smiles. “And _that’s_ some random information you didn’t ask for. Ah...dessert preferences?”

Would it be terribly inappropriate for him to answer “You, naked and covered in cream,” ? Probably. So Harry shakes his head. “Whatever you’d like to bring, I’m sure will be wonderful. I’ll...here, let me give you my card.” He pulls out one for the tailor shop and scribbles his number and address on the back before handing it off. “Say around 7 tomorrow evening, if you’re free then?”

Eggsy nods, glancing at the front of the card. “Yeah, yeah...you’re a tailor, then?” His smile is bright. “That explains all the suits.”

Harry nods, then - because he wants to make sure Eggsy doesn’t somehow mistake this for a friendly dinner and friendship - he leans down, giving Eggsy plenty of opportunity to stop him, and brushes his lips against his cheek, just near the corner of his mouth. A decidedly _not_ friendly kiss, and the way Eggsy’s breath hitches makes Harry want very much to take a good bit more than a cheek kiss.

He doesn’t however, because though he’s fairly certain he could get away with a lot right here in Eggsy’s classroom/kitchen, there is something about him that makes Harry ache to romance him. Seduce him. Eggsy Unwin is a soft, sweet treat and Harry intends to savor every single bite.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait, real life jumped me in an alley and beat the shit out of my creativity. :) Thanks for being so patient, enjoy!

“He didn’t even try to do more than kiss you?” Roxy looks so confused, Eggsy almost wants to laugh but he’s not finding the situation very amusing. “Was it at least a good kiss?”

Eggsy does laugh then, despite himself. “Rox, you have _no_ idea. Off the charts. Top 3 of all time, maybe, if not better.”

“Well there, then. He’s definitely interested. Maybe he’s just old-fashioned. He is, what, in his fifties? That’s how they did things back then, I think.” She shrugs and breaks off a piece of scone to dip in her overly sweet, milky tea. “Just because he doesn’t jump you on the first date...I think it’s romantic.”

Eggsy sighs and shrugs, glancing at the clock. “I don’t know. He probably figured out halfway through dinner that I was absolutely nowhere near his league, noticed I’ve got at least an extra 15 pounds settled right around my hips and thighs that no one thinks is sexy, and probably gave me that kiss as an actual kiss off. A little treat to send the pudgy nobody on his way.”

“That’s ridiculous!”

Eggsy shrugs, finishing his tea and setting the cup in the sink. “Seems about right to me. Do you need a lift to work?”

Before Roxy can answer, there’s a buzzing of the lobby callbox. She holds up one finger to him and hurries down the stairs and a few minutes later returns with two large-ish boxes in her arms, her eyes wide.

“What on earth?” he asks, coming over to help her.

“You tell me, mister ‘my date with mr perfect was a failure’. Both addressed to Mr. Gary Unwin - if they’re not from _him_ I’ll cook for a month.”

Eggsy laughs. “Oh god, don’t do that, we’ll both end up in hospital.” His heart races as he peers down at the boxes. “Do you really think?”

She waves her hands. “Open them, you idiot, and prove me right!”

He bites his lower lip, reaching for the smaller box first. It looks suspiciously like a florist box, and when he lifts the top off dozens of bright yellow and white daisies spill out onto the kitchen table and he gasps, grinning.

“Ohhhh, they’re so you! Most guys would send roses, but your fancy gentleman’s got you pegged, Eggsy! Is there a card?” Roxy’s got one daisy, sniffing it with a dreamy look on her face.

Of course there is, and he swallows hard as he opens the small envelope nestled amongst the truly insane amount of daisies. “Daisies remind me of sunshine and sunshine reminds me of you. Thank you for your delightful company last evening. PS. Included a small bunch for your own little Daisy. Yours, Harry.”

Roxy stares at him, wide eyed for a moment. He can only stare back, mouth agape.

“He sent flowers for you _and_ your baby sister? Oh my god. Eggsy, _oh my god_.” She digs gently in the box and unearths a tiny little spray of pure white daisies and baby’s breath just the right size for a 3 year old.

He can’t help but beam, running his fingers gently over the soft, delicate petals. He’d mentioned Daisy while they’d been having dessert and that gorgeous wine Harry’d given him. That Harry remembered and thought of this was...extraordinary. “Okay...so maybe I misinterpreted?”

“Do you think?” Roxy asks with a laugh. “I’m almost afraid to ask what’s in the other box…”

To be honest, so is Eggsy. Harry Hart is on the verge of setting himself up to be the perfect man and Eggsy doesn’t quite know what he’s supposed to do with that. He takes a couple of minutes to arrange the flowers into a couple of vases to set on the windowsill, the little spray going into the fridge to keep it fresh until he can bring it to Dais this evening, before he returns to the table and the second box.

Roxy holds her hands up suddenly. “You know what, I think I should leave you to this. I’m going to walk to work today, it’s sunny for once and you, my love, need some time to yourself.” She leans across and smacks a kiss to his cheek, waving off his protests. “Oh no, none of that. Just...I think give this guy a chance, okay? I like him already.”

“Me, too.” Eggsy smiles and strokes his fingers along the top of the box as Roxy leaves, the door slamming shut behind her. Alone now, he’s a little nervous to open it.

Not that he thinks a man like Harry would send anything inappropriate. In fact, if the daisies are anything to go by, it’s probably the classiest gift ever, perfectly suited for him.

Finally, he makes himself tug open the broad gold ribbon across the top of the sleek, black box emblazoned with a symbol that looks like a K tipped sideways, lifting the top off. Inside, he pushes aside layers of delicate tissue paper to reveal an exquisite suit. Very similar to the ones Harry frequently wore. His breath hitches as his fingers brush across the fine fabric - he can’t place it, the texture different than anything he knows of. Likely some indecently expensive fabric only posh tailors can get. It’s gorgeous, it’s probably precisely fit to his body - it’s _too much_.

What’s extraordinary is he had _just_ been talking with Rox a week ago about how if Harry ever did ask him out it’d probably be somewhere far too fancy for him, because he didn’t have anything that might be worth wearing to the kinds of posh places a man like him went. And now here it is, the perfect suit for just such an occasion.

He stands, carefully lifting the suit out. He can’t resist and strips right there in the kitchen, working himself into the most beautiful piece of clothing he’s ever owned and, sure enough, it molds to him in an incredibly intimate way. Flattering every curve, as though Harry somehow memorized his body when they’ve never even touched in a truly intimate way.

He hurries into the tiny bathroom and turns this way and that, shocked at how _sexy_ he looks. He knows he should call Harry and refuse, tell him it’s far too much. A suit like this must cost a thousand or more and it’s just...extravagant.

But something inside Eggsy revolts at the idea of returning it. When was the last time he had something truly extravagant? Besides the expensive, very exclusive wine Harry had given him as well. A man who was gorgeous, thoughtful, wanted to spoil him...what more could he ask for?

His cell phone rings just then and he darts out to the kitchen to retrieve it from his hastily discarded jeans. His heart kicks up at the sight of Harry’s name. He takes a deep breath and answers.

“Hi,” he murmurs, cheeks flushing hot.

There’s a smile in Harry’s voice. “You sound out of breath. Did I call at a bad time?”

Eggsy’s blush brightens and he’s very glad Harry can’t see him right now. “No...I just tried on the suit. It’s too much, Harry.” He makes himself say the last, though so much of him wants to accept the outlandish gift and find some filthy way to thank Harry for it. He cannot think of any time he could be considered _filthy_ and yet somehow this perfect, proper man in his impeccable suits and with his goodnight kisses makes Eggsy want to do something _bad_.

Harry tsks softly in his ear. “Nonsense. I am a tailor, it’s no different from you, a baker, bringing those delicious honey eclairs last night. Do you like it?”

Eggsy lets out a wistful breath. “Very much, yeah. The flowers, too.”

“Ah good. I hoped my instincts were correct.”

“I’m beginning to suspect they always are,” Eggsy laughs. “Do you read minds, Mr. Hart?”

Harry hums in response. “No, I read people. And you, darling boy, are utterly transparent.”

“I am?” Except he knows it’s true. Roxy’s always telling him he has no poker face at all.

“Mmm. Very. You were disappointed last night.”

Shiiit. “I wasn’t! Not, like, the date anyway. It was really nice. I had fun.” Oh god, it sounds like he had a terrible time. “I just...I don’t know.”

“You had expectations?”

Understatement of the century, maybe. “I guess so. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Believe me, Eggsy, I had some expectations of my own…”

Oh god. The way he says that, all low and rough around the edges - it makes Eggsy’s knees weak. He swallows hard, sinking into one of the kitchen chairs. “Like what?” he asks, breathless.

There’s a moment of silence, and then a soft, rough breath from Harry’s end. “I am...not a gentleman in all areas of my life, Eggsy.”

His cock throbs to life, breath hitching. What does that even mean? “I don’t care. I don’t want you to be. That’s…” He pauses, then continues. “That’s kind of what I was hoping for, maybe.”

“Were you, now? What were you hoping for, little tasty?” His voice is something else now. Smooth. Intense. Compelling, almost.

“I don’t know, I just...there’s more to you, Harry. I know it. I’ve never met a tailor, but...that ain’t all you are, is it?”

He holds his breath, not sure what answer he’s expecting.

“No, it’s not. I can’t tell you anything more. Which is, for the most part, why I’ve thus far kept my distance as much as I’m able.” He laughs a little, quiet and meaningful. “However, I’m discovering that it’s very hard to keep you at arm’s length.”

Eggsy’s head is roaring like a windstorm, heart pounding. “Don’t, then.”

There’s absolute silence for a moment, then a loud buzz from the call box nearly makes him jump out of his skin. He ignores it, hoping they’ll go away.

“Eggsy?”

“Yes, Harry?”

“Open the door.”

Eggsy freezes, eyes widening as realization dawns. Oh god. Oh _god_. “Is...is that…?”

“May I come in?” His voice is sultry again, gone all compelling and sensual. Eggsy knows exactly what is going to happen if he opens that door. He also knows that if he doesn’t, Harry will fall back, court him slowly, from a distance. Where it’s safe.

Does he want Harry safe? Or does he just want Harry?

He knows the answer before he’s even finished asking the question. He drops his phone to the table top, hurrying down the stairs to the front door and yanks it open. Harry is there, in all his usual finery, except there is something very different this morning. It takes him a few heartbeats to realize what it is.

He looks… _hungry_. Capable of devouring. _Dying_ to, in fact. Eggsy shudders and stares up at him.

Harry doesn’t say a word, lips curving just a touch as he moves forward, crowding Eggsy back into the entryway and shutting, locking the door behind him. Eggsy’s mouth is dry, dizzy with how fast his breath is, how fluttery his heart feels in his chest.

The next thing he knows, Harry’s arm snakes out and tugs him closer, flush against him and Eggsy’s mouth is laid claim to - as though Harry is marking him, sinking his taste deep into Eggsy’s mouth and Eggsy wonders if he’ll ever get it out. Doesn’t know if he wants to.

He finds himself backed up against the wall, Harry so much bigger, arms around him, caging him in, mouth stealing his breath...he has never felt so utterly consumed before and it’s _gorgeous_.

“Harry,” he pants out when Harry’s lips leave his and begin a heated, damp path down his neck. He gets a growl in response and shivers. “I thought...thought you didn’t like me…”

Harry’s chuckle against his throat is rough, teeth grazing his pulse point. “You’re a very foolish little boy, then,” he teases, giving him a sharp little bite right there.

Eggsy can’t help but agree. He’s a fucking idiot. And glad to be wrong in this instance. Harry _definitely_ likes him.

“Thank you for...fuck...for the presents…” It’s hard to make his voice work when all he really seems capable of is whimpery little moans as Harry shifts his attention to Eggsy’s collarbones, pushing aside the crisp, not fully buttoned suit shirt to get at them. Eggsy’s knees fucking buckle and he’s very glad for the support of the wall behind him.

Harry lifts his head then, pulling back just enough to give Eggsy a long, slow once over, hungry smile spreading across his face as he does. “It looks divine on you...mind if I take it off?”

Eggsy nearly chokes on a laugh, shaking his head wordlessly. His stomach pitches pleasantly when Harry grins at him so wickedly and then lifts him off his feet as if he weighs nothing, beginning up the stairs.

Eggsy’s eyes widen, clutching at him before realizing that Harry isn’t even slightly out of breath. “You’re, uh...very fit for a tailor,” he manages, turning his face into Harry’s neck to nuzzle and kiss the warm flesh there. He’s rewarded with another low growl and Harry’s hands tightening on his ass.

“Ah, yes...bolts of fabric are heavy?”

Eggsy giggles, teeth scraping the tender spot just behind Harry’s ear. “Sounds believable.” He’s beginning to suspect that whatever it is Harry does _besides_ being a tailor, it might be something he needs to know about in the near future. Honestly, though, he doesn’t know if he cares. Harry Hart is fucking perfect and Eggsy’s pretty sure nothing is going to change his mind on that.

A moment later, Harry stops in the hallway. “Eggsy?”

“Mmmph?” Eggsy replies, tonguing along Harry’s sharp jaw.

“Which one?”

Eggsy lifts his head, glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the bedroom on the left. “That one.” Then goes back to tasting him. Because damn, Harry is delicious. He can’t wait to taste other parts of him.

He’s anticipating being dropped onto his bed next, but instead the bedroom door shuts behind them and Harry is pressing him against it, one hand under his ass to support him, the other coming between them to tug his suit jacket open and begin work on the buttons.

When Harry’s fingers brush his stomach, Eggsy can’t help the instinctual urge to suck in, and when he does, Harry’s eyes flick up to his face. Eggsy stills, almost holding his breath wondering if Harry is going to stop, make some comment about body issues or, god forbid, about wanting him _despite_ his too-soft bits.

Instead, Harry’s face gentles, the intensity of before dimming just slightly as he lowers Eggsy to his feet. Eggsy’s throat tightens, sure Harry’s leaving, but instead he sinks to his knees in front of Eggsy, hands on his hips, and leans in to press his mouth oh so gently against Eggsy’s stomach.

Eggsy’s breath catches and he sinks his hands into Harry’s hair, mouth dropping open as the other man turns his face into the softness there and _nuzzles_. Oh god. And then long fingers are working his pants open and teeth are grazing and Eggsy forgets all about being self-conscious because the most gorgeous man he’s ever met looks like he’s just been handed a fucking gift and that gift is Eggsy.

Oh no...he’s going to fall in love with this man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can find me on Tumblr at [Faedreamer](http://faedreamer.tumblr.com) where my ask is always open for prompts, headcanon, general flailing about Hartwin/Kingsman/Firtherton/anything! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, thanks so much for the encouragement and I hope you enjoy how it all wraps up. :)

As beautiful as the suit is on Eggsy, Harry takes full advantage of the permission to remove it. Slowly tugging the pants down sleek, strong legs, unable to resist the lure of plump, bare thighs and taking a long, lingering moment to feather kisses down the outside of one, fingers following the same path on the other. The way Eggsy trembles and clings to his shoulders make his heart clench and his cock throb.

The boy is sweet as any pastry in his bakery, with wide, thickly lashed eyes and parted, candy pink lips. Every inch of him a delight and Harry is of the mind to make sure he feels properly worshipped.

He smiles and helps Eggsy step out of the trousers and then rises, tugging the jacket and shirt off as well. Before his boy can get self-conscious again, Harry quickly removes his own jacket before scooping him up and carrying him to the bed, tumbling him back and nestling himself between those lush, gorgeous thighs.

“Holy fuck, Harry,” Eggsy pants, breath catching as Harry tugs one leg up against his hip and slides a hand under him to stroke two fingers along the cleft of his ass, rubbing lightly against Eggsy’s entrance through his briefs.

“That is exactly the plan, little tasty,” Harry teases. He bends to kiss him as he slips one finger under the edge of the underwear to brush bare against his clenching hole. Eggsy lets out the most delicious whimpering moan against Harry’s lips and Harry presses his still clothed cock against the boy’s inner thigh insistently, grinding just slightly for the friction.

Eggsy’s reaction is volatile, his hips bucking up and breath gasping into the kiss. _Oh yes, darling boy. More of that, then…_

He gives it to him, tugging the underwear further aside to expose him and Harry’s fingers unerringly find their target, stroking and probing gently, though not penetrating yet.

“Harry!” Eggsy whispers, breaking the kiss to tilt his head back at the sensation.

Harry takes that as a blatant invitation and rocks his hips as his mouth and teeth and tongue wreak havoc on the boy’s exposed throat, fingers toying with him the whole time. He should probably slow down, not overwhelm him, but Eggsy’s clutching at him and making the sweetest, encouraging sounds, and Harry thinks perhaps here is a young man who might handle the _wild_ in him that he has such trouble keeping at bay. He lifts his head and gives Eggsy’s jaw a bite, drawing his focus.

“Eggsy,” he murmurs, voice rough. “May I…”

Before he can finish, Eggsy is nodding, fingers digging into Harry’s back in a way that would leave marks were it not for his shirt. Suddenly there is nothing Harry wants more than for Eggsy to mark him.

“Yes, please,” Eggsy answers, panting softly.

“You don’t even know what…”

“ _Yes_ , Harry, for christ’s sake...yes to all of it. Everything. Please…”

It’s as though Eggsy’s flung open a gate inside him, freeing that part of him he tries so hard to contain all day every day. It’s only on missions that he can let that part of him loose, but with Eggsy...he thinks maybe he’s found an angel who can tame his demon and the idea is breathtaking.

He slides up over Eggsy, catching his wrists and dragging the boy’s trembling hands above his head to close onto the headboard of his bed. Their eyes meet and Eggsy’s are wide, dilated - not with fear, but desire. Harry nudges Eggsy’s mouth with his own, teeth gently scoring the kiss-swollen flesh. “Hold on,” he breathes before slinking back down between the boy’s thighs and closing his mouth over the head of Eggsy’s cock through the thin material of his underwear.

Eggsy lets out a shout, hips bucking instinctively and Harry yanks down the last barrier between them so when the boy’s hips lift again, he engulfs every last inch of that gorgeous cock right down to the base. The sounds Eggsy makes are frantic and full of pleasure as Harry begins to work him deep and fast.

“ _Harrrrry_ …” Eggsy whines, staring down at him with mouth open, tongue slightly extended. “Oh holy...” he gasps out, eyes slamming closed when Harry draws deeply on him, tongue stroking the tender underside of his cock as he lets it slide in and out.

He tastes like fucking heaven, the flavor heavy on his tongue, flooding his senses. Harry wants so badly to finish him off, to watch him come apart at the seams using just his mouth, but more than that, Harry wants to be buried balls deep inside Eggsy when he comes.

So he doesn’t linger, after a few minutes drawing off him wetly, tongue dragging down the shaft to tease and suck at his balls. Eggsy keens under him, body twisting against the sheets, a faint sheen of sweat glossing his skin.

“Please, please...oh my god…”

Harry grins wickedly, rising up over him then, onto his knees, to tug his tie free. Eggsy watches intently, chest heaving and entire body flushed as Harry strips off the tie, then the shirt. When he gets to his pants, Eggsy’s cock is leaking against his belly, slick and needy and Harry reaches one hand out to swipe through the moisture and down to stroke the boy’s entrance with wet fingers. Other hand yanking open his fly and shoving down his trousers.

“Such a needy little thing, aren’t you? Do you want my fingers, darling?” he asks, nudging one digit against Eggsy’s hole.

Eggsy nods, panting as he spreads his thighs wide. “Yes, please,” he whispers, lifting his hips. “Harry… _yes_.”

Harry’s cock springs free of his clothes just then, distracting Eggsy for a moment, who lets out a hungry little moan that is - quite honestly - the most delicious sound Harry has ever heard in his life.

Harry rids himself of the last of his clothes before stretching himself out over Eggsy, who wraps himself around him as though he’s never going to let go. Which is exactly what Harry has in mind, actually.

He is so sweet, moaning softly when Harry claims his lips. But in other ways he’s anything but sweet, the boy’s hands greedy, sliding down to Harry’s ass and tugging him closer to grind their bare cocks against each other, Eggsy lifting to rub against him all heat and hard and slick.

If Harry had been under the impression Eggsy might be a quiet little bottom, he is swiftly disabused of _that_ notion. Instead, he’s wild, hungry, full of fire and begging and before long, Harry is convinced he is not going to make it out of this - whatever _this_ is - unscathed. If he makes it out at all, because Eggsy is winding himself around Harry in ways far beyond physical with every soft smile and wicked moan and heated kiss.

He rolls then, onto his back, and Eggsy blushes brightly when he finds himself suddenly astride Harry. For a moment, the fire in him banks and he looks unsure, shy, leaning down over Harry to press their bodies together. Self-conscious, perhaps. Harry is having none of that.

“Ride me,” he whispers against Eggsy’s temple, hands sliding down his sleek back to the round curve of his ass. He urges a slow rocking, teeth nibbling against Eggsy’s ear. “That’s it,” he breathes. “Does it feel good?”

Eggsy nods, face buried in Harry’s neck, hands braced on the mattress. After a moment of slow rolling hips, Eggsy shifts up a bit, allowing him to move more freely and, though his cheeks burn red still, the pleasure seems to override the sudden shyness.

Harry is blatant with his encouragement, hands worshipful, murmuring compliments and praise. Eggsy laps it up like cream, gradually growing more confident until eventually he is propped up astride Harry, body arched back with hands on Harry’s thighs as his body undulates - showing Harry everything, every beautiful inch of him as Eggsy grinds on him, Harry’s cock nestled snugly between the cheeks of his ass so that with every roll of his hips, Harry’s full length is dragged across Eggsy’s entrance, the head catching occasionally on the tender rim and dragging a shuddering cry from the boy.

He is eroticism personified and Harry cannot get enough. When he can take no more, they shift again, this time to Eggsy on his knees, face in the pillows and Harry knelt behind him, lips nuzzling the soft, smooth flesh of his ass.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he growls, teeth nipping the plump undercurve where thigh meets ass. For the first time, Eggsy doesn’t make some dissenting sound to disagree with him or indicate he’s biased - the boy just melts and spreads his thighs further, offering himself up without hesitation.

Harry takes that offer, hands spreading Eggsy open and mouth moving in to taste him there, tongue sweeping across his entrance, sending a rippling shudder through Eggsy.

“Oh god…”

Harry chuckles softly, tongue swirling lightly. “Oh, my dear boy, god has nothing to do with this, I think.”

Eggsy’s laugh is cut off by a ragged moan as Harry firms his tongue and probes deeper, pushing inside him shallowly. Harry has so many things he wants to do, all the ways he’s fantasized about driving his little tasty wild for him, but in the moment, all he wants suddenly is to be inside him and chain this boy to him somehow.

So he lifts up, bending forward over Eggsy to cocoon him in his embrace, bodies touching in as many places as he can manage. His lips brush Eggsy’s ear, cock rubbing against his wriggling ass. “Eggsy?”

Eggsy doesn’t ask what, just sort of flails his hand in the direction of the nightstand and Harry smiles, pressing tender kisses along the side of his neck as he stretches one arm out to tug the drawer open and grab lube and a condom. Eggsy is shaking, and Harry murmurs soothingly to him as he pops the cap on the lube and slicks his fingers.

A moment later he’s got two snugly buried inside Eggsy, who is whimpering frantically, hips shifting restlessly.

“Shhh, my good boy...relax, I won’t be long,” he murmurs, fingers twisting and stretching. Eggsy is tight and Harry isn’t small and he’d rather have a taste of Kingsman’s special poison than hurt this young man.

Eggsy relaxes under him, one hand scrabbling back to find Harry’s free one, lacing their fingers. It’s such a sweet gesture and tugs at Harry’s heart almost painfully. “Harry…”

His fingers thrust gently, adding a third gradually, guided by Eggsy’s whimpers and soft gasps until all three are seated fully within him. “I’ve got you,” he whispers, squeezing Eggsy’s small hand. “You’re doing so well.”

As before, Eggsy glows under the praise, tipping his hips up a bit more in response and Harry glides his fingers in and out, deep and slow until Eggsy is practically sobbing on each breath and his hand is squeezing hard now.

“Harry please… I ain’t gonna break. Hurry,” he pleads.

Harry doesn’t think there’s a man alive who could refuse that. He eases his fingers out slowly, then pushes up to his knees. Eggsy glances back at him, watching hungrily as Harry slides the condom into place, his pink lips parted on ragged breaths, eyes dark and wide with barely contained desire. He has never looked so beautiful.

One hand at the base of his spine, Harry holds him steady and slowly, gently, pushes forward. Eggsy’s face screws up slightly at the deep pressure and Harry strokes soothing circles with his thumb on his back, watching as the boy acclimates slowly, inch by inch, to the fullness of Harry’s cock inside him.

For Harry’s part, it’s the most tortuous few minutes of his life and calls on every ounce of willpower to maintain the steady, slow pace until finally he is seated fully inside the boy. Sweat breaks out on his upper lip as he struggles to remain still, allowing Eggsy to adjust.

It’s not more than a handful of heartbeats before Eggsy is rocking experimentally back against him, hissing in pleasure as Harry’s cock slides in him. “Harry,” he sighs, glancing back at him with his lip caught between his teeth. His look can only be described as bliss.

“More, darling boy?” he asks, though already he knows the answer. He can hardly be blamed for wanting to hear the words. His hands settle on Eggsy’s hips, thumbs stroking the silky, pale flesh. “Tell me,” he encourages.

Eggsy nods, rocking back again to nudge Harry slightly deeper. “More, Harry…’fore I go ahead and fuckin’ take it.”

Harry grins wickedly, hands tightening on Eggsy’s hips just as the boy begins to try to thrust back harder. “Another time, little tasty, I’ll make you take everything you want from me. But today...all you have to do is hold on.”

Eggsy’s eyes light up and he drops his shoulders down, reaching up to grip the headboard like before. As soon as he’s got a grip, Harry pulls almost completely out and hesitates just briefly before driving deep and hard back inside.

The boy’s shout can likely be heard down the block, and Harry thrills knowing it. Let everyone hear, he thinks, that the little tasty in flat 13B is no longer up for the taking. He is fucking well claimed.

Any coherent thought he has left in him is lost a split second later when Eggsy clenches tight and bucks his hips back to meet Harry’s next thrust, sending ricochets of pleasure spiking through them both and before he knows it, Harry is bent low over him, one hand braced on the bed, the other gripping bruises into a soft thigh as he fucks him with all the ferocity they both crave.

But under the sweat and heat and rough words scraping across sensitive flesh, there is a tenderness that Harry’s not very familiar with. Eggsy is precious and Harry’s body seems to know it even when he’s certain he’s completely fucking _gone_. Every movement, every touch, every feeding kiss is perfectly attuned to the needs and desires of this beautiful boy that Harry is frighteningly certain suddenly he is falling in love with.

He’ll keep that to himself for the moment, he thinks. Later, when he has time to wrap his mind around something like that.

His thoughts are yanked back to the present with a hard, tight clench of Eggsy around his already aching cock and, fuck, that’s gonna be the end of him, isn’t it? He drops low over him again, reaching his free hand around under Eggsy to stroke his cock tightly, determined he is _not_ going to be a cliche and lose control before his boy reaches his own finish.

“So fucking close, little tasty...come with me, Eggsy,” he breathes in his ear, savoring the wicked shudder that slips down Eggsy’s back. He’s so responsive, it melts Harry’s brain.

Eggsy nods, hips bucking forward into Harry’s hand, back onto Harry’s cock, straining and seeking the climax just out of reach. “Fuck...yes, Harry… _yes_ …”

It’s not a second too soon that Harry feels the rippling surge of Eggsy’s orgasm overcome him, because he himself couldn’t have lasted another half a second. His vision goes _blurry_ as he comes, so hard he can’t breathe and under him Eggsy cries out, trembling wildly before, finally, both collapse onto the bed.

Almost immediately, Eggsy makes a sort of ‘eww’ sound and Harry chuckles, exhausted but not so exhausted he can’t roll his boy away from the wet spot and gather him close, unwilling to let go of him yet. Maybe never, if he’s honest.

It’s much later - after a nap and a round two - that Eggsy peers at him over a cup of tea at the kitchen table and lifts one expressive brow.

“So...you’re not _just_ a tailor, are you, Harry?”

He looks so cute wrapped up in a soft flannel robe, the steam from the mug of tea fogging up the glasses Harry hadn’t known he wore and finds so bloody adorable it’s hard to hold back the need to drag the boy to the bedroom and try for a round three with him in nothing but those glasses.

The question is no light chat over tea, and he knows Eggsy knows it. It isn’t as though Harry’s given any effort at all to hiding the fact that he isn’t exactly what he seems. What it is Eggsy thinks he does do, Harry isn’t sure, but he doubts it’s anything like the truth. Still, Harry doesn’t want to lie to him. Won’t, in fact.

“No, Eggsy, I am not.”

Eggsy nods, humming thoughtfully as he takes a sip of his tea before setting the mug down. “Is it illegal?”

Harry shakes his head no.

“Dangerous?”

Harry nods.

“Can you tell me?”

“It’s against regulations, but I won’t lie. If you ask, I’ll tell you.”

Eggsy doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then a small smile curves his lips, picking his mug back up. “Want to stay for dinner? Roxy’s been dying to meet you.”

It’s Harry’s brows that shoot up this time. “You’re not…?”

Eggsy shrugs one shoulder. “All I want to know right now is if you want to see me again and when, Harry. At some point, yes, I’m going to ask those questions. Not today, though. I trust you enough to not need everything on the table right this second. So...dinner?”

Harry can’t help the grin, leaning back in his chair and nodding. “Yes. Dinner.” And then _all_ the orgasms his boy can possibly handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always you can come find me on Tumblr at faedreamer.tumblr.com where my ask is always open for prompts, headcanons or general flailing about Hartwin or anything else, really. Thanks for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> As always you can find me on tumblr at faedreamer.tumblr.com where my ask is always open for flailing, prompts and headcanons of all kinds! Come find me and say hello! Part 2 of this 3 parter will be out by the weekend. :)


End file.
